The One with the Ghosts
by dnachemlia
Summary: A lighthouse keeper's tale sounds awfully familiar... Written for the NFA What the Dickens Challenge. Ficlet.


**The One with the Ghosts**

Written for the What the Dickens? Challenge

Genre: Supernatural

Rating: FR 13

Summary: A lighthouse keeper's tale sounds awfully familiar…

Disclaimer: Still don't own. 'nuff said.

A/N: The challenge was to write a ficlet (500-1000 words) that mentions Dickens' works or includes a plot from one of his stories. The title of this story is from a bit of dialogue in the _Doctor Who_ episode "The Unquiet Dead".

XXX

Tim dragged himself up onto the slick rocks and sighed in relief, happy to be on solid ground again. After catching his breath, he raised his head and looked around. He was on an island, upon which the sole structure was a weather-beaten but still functional lighthouse. No other living soul was in sight. As he struggled to his feet, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see the figure of a man standing near the base of the lighthouse. He was holding a lantern in his right hand, his left hand was folded across his chest and the red light lit the man's form, giving him the illusion of being awash in blood. Just as Tim was about to call out to him, the man turned and disappeared around the far side of the lighthouse.

"Hey!" Tim croaked, his throat sore from the exposure to salt water. "Down here! I need help!" He staggered towards the building and when he reached it he banged on the door. After a few minutes the door opened to reveal a middle-aged man, as weather-beaten as the structure that sheltered him. He gave Tim a curious look and opened the door wider to allow him admittance.

"What happened?"

"Boat capsized. I need to call my Boss. I'm with NCIS, and—"

"Understood. Come on up and I'll see if I can get someone on the radio."

Tim followed the man up the winding staircase and soon found himself in a small, sparsely furnished room. The man tossed Tim a heavy blanket and pointed to a door in the far wall.

"You'll probably want to get out of those wet clothes. I'll make the call to shore." Tim nodded and headed for the other room. He shucked off his soaked clothing, carefully hung the garments over a heat register to dry, and wrapped the blanket around himself before heading back to the living area. The man handed him a steaming mug of coffee and Tim nodded his thanks before taking a seat near the kerosene stove in the center of the room.

"They should be here in about an hour." The man tilted his head and started at Tim with a curious but somewhat wary expression. "What made you decided to come knock? Most lighthouses don't have keepers anymore."

"I saw…well I thought it was you, but it must have been your coworker, and I followed him."

The man paled. "This man…he was carrying a red lantern?"

"Yes. Why?"

"You won't believe me if I tell you."

Tim felt a chill that didn't have anything to do with the drafty room. "Tell me what?"

"There is no other person on this island besides me."

Tim tried to laugh but the sound was stuck in his throat. "You… you're kidding, right?" The man shook his head. "So you think I'm crazy…"

"No. I've seen him myself. It's never good news when I do, though."

"What do you mean…?"

"I don't know who he is, or _was_, or why he chooses to haunt this rock, but I've seen him on three separate occasions, just before tragedy struck nearby."

"'Haunt'? You think he's a… ghost?"

"Believe what you want, but there's no other explanation that fits. There's no other way he could appear and vanish like he does."

Tim had the feeling that he'd heard this story before, somewhere, but he decided to humor the man and listen to his tale.

"The first time I saw him, he was standing out on the jetty. I thought he was shipwrecked, like you, and I headed down to help him but he had vanished. A few hours later, one of the boats from a local fishing fleet sank two hundred yards offshore of that very same jetty. The whole crew perished. The next time I saw him, he was on the south end of the island. The next morning a tanker caught fire and sank just a couple of miles south of here. Five crewmen were killed. The last time…he was on the west end, and the next morning a sailboat with a crew of seven simply vanished."

"So why…?"

"Is he warning _me_? I don't know. I can't do anything about it, even if I knew what exactly was going to happen. I feel like I'm the one being haunted…"

Tim couldn't bear the man's anguished expression and turned away, catching sight of the man's meager library in a rickety bookshelf. He noticed the title of one of the books and smiled when he realized he himself had that very same book. He almost chuckled. Now he remembered why the man's tale sounded familiar.

"I always liked that story…"

"What story?"

"_The Signal-man_, by Charles Dickens." Tim smiled. "I appreciate the effort to keep me distracted, but I'm a little too old for ghost stories."

The man stared at him for a moment before turning and leaving the room. Tim felt a twist of shame. The man had helped him, after all. He could have been a little more tactful…

Soon he heard the rumble of a ship's engine and rose to look out the window. A boat was pulling up to the dock. Tim quickly retrieved his wet clothes before heading down the stairs to meet his rescue party. He looked for the man to offer an apology but he was nowhere in sight.

An hour later the boat had arrived back at the base. Tim was greeted and gently teased by his team about his adventure but before they could guide him to their waiting vehicle, a commotion drew their attention to the docks. Tim made his way to the center of activity and hailed one of the crewmen.

"What happened?"

The man turned to him, his face grim. "We just heard from one of our ships: our last manned lighthouse has been destroyed by fire. The keeper didn't make it out in time. He's gone."

The End


End file.
